Something Familiar
by xOlive
Summary: Aleks knows there's something strangely familiar about the handsome stranger who saved him, but he can't really pin down exactly what it is. With no other plan of action, he plans to stay as near as he can to the man to see what exactly is so familiar about him. *Another Zombie AU* (SSoHD) (Seamus x Aleks)


Two gunshots.

A flock of black crows take flight, rustling the trees in which they had been perched in. Leaves flutter in the wind, falling in slow, lazy circles. A gust of hot wind lifts them up high, rattling branches as it passes. The leaves dance into the air and push against the side of an old, abandoned building.

A small house sits in the midst of a rolling, golden field. In it's prime the house would have been a thing of beauty. But now it's windows, or what was left of them, looked like large, gaping wounds leading into nothing but darkness. The door had long since been torn off it's hinges and left the opening looking as though it had been haphazardly carved open. Ugly scratches and smears of unknown substances were just about on every wall, inside and out.

In the doorway a figure peered out into the open.

The figure was still for a few seconds longer before cursing under his breath. In a sudden flurry of movement, the figure exploded into action. He whipped around back into the darkness and hurriedly grabbed whatever it was he could get his hands on, throwing everything into a black messenger bag. Flashlights, old newspapers, knives, torn shirts, canned food, water bottles, rolls of paper towels; everything and anything was shoved into his bag.

Without a glance back at the rotting house, the man fled into the field, breath coming in soft huffs.

He ran for what felt like forever. When the man was sure he had made it a safe distance he slowed his pace to a slow jog and skidded to a halt. He lifted his bag to sit better on his shoulder then turned back to look at his past shelter.

Already, a pair of the 'undead' had appeared, fingers curled into claws. They had their heads tilted to the side, decayed tongues lolling from their mouths and savage smiles on their faces. Before the outbreak, people had created, almost whimsical, tales of mindless carcasses. Carcasses that had somehow 'reanimated'. Video games, movies, television shows, and book all painted similar stories about 'zombies'. Thinking back on it now made the man want to laugh. If only they were dealing with hordes of 'the walking dead'. Everything would have been so much simpler.

Instead, these beasts, too smart to just simply call 'zombies', were skilled predators. Or at least from what the man had heard and experienced. He had ran into a survivor who was supposedly a scientist (although the man didn't trust his wide eyes and hair; the guy looked half mad). The guy just seemed happy enough to talk with another person.

And talk he did.

He told the man everything he knew about the zombies. Once the infection had entered the body there was no hope. Within 24 hours you were a goner. The disease took over your body with the sole goal of spreading into the bodies of others. The only way out is a gun to the head.

The man could still see those scared, animal-like eyes staring back at him and concluded that the mad scientist was telling the truth.

A loud thud brought the man to his senses and he crouched down lower to the grass.

Three more zombies had gathered at the house, joining the first pair in searching for a living being. Thankfully their senses of smell and sight were not as advanced as their sense of hearing. It would be awhile, still, before the group would give up and start to wander away.

The man frowned then turned and dashed away. He was used to this by now. Almost a year since the outbreak started and he had learned how to evade the hordes of zombies. His mind and body had changed from how they were before shit hit the fan. His hair grew longer and his body grew leaner. He was no longer 'just a guy who played video games'.

Of course, none of this happened by itself. The man had set rules for himself. Rules to live by. Literally. Direct one on one confrontations would end badly. Never make too much noise (which also meant that he rarely got to use his trusty shotgun, much to the disappointment of the man). The zombies may have bad sight, but taking the chance was never worth it. Staying in one place for too long is bad, surviving means to keep in motion. Be weary of people. This rule was often discarded whenever he actually saw people, though. Sightings of people had become more and more scarce as the infection set itself into the earth.  
Two more gunshots.

The figure swore under his breath as the loud sound rang through the darkening field. This time the shots sounded closer, coming from his right. Usually the presence of another person would make him feel elated, but no then they're being so fucking idiotic. How had this other person survived so long, being so fucking loud?

The man grunted as he willed his legs to go faster, wanting to put as much distance between him and the idiot as he could. The golden grass whipped across his face as he reached the end of the field. Ahead of him he spotted his destination: A tree house; awkwardly built on high branches. Behind him, soft thudding and soft cursing could be heard.

"Fuck. Wait up."

Fucking Christ.

Giving one last push of energy the man tried his best to gain speed. This idiot was fast. A little bit too fast.  
His pursuer grunted and fell back a few paces before stopping completely and cocking his gun.

Oh hell no.

"Oh hell no."

The man skidded to a halt and dashed back into the field. He barely caught a glimpse of his pursuer before he had tackled him to the ground.

The two fell to the ground in a flurry of limbs and cursing. The man and his pursuer wrestled in the grass, a dirt cloud quickly forming around them. With a well placed elbow to the jaw, the man quickly slapped the gun and send it flying away.

"Hey-"

The man slapped his hand down onto the others mouth and straddled his hips, efficiently pinning him down to the ground. He pushed both of their bodies as low to the ground as they could go, essentially pressing both of their bodies close together.

"Shut the fuck up, idiot.", he whispered, quickly scanning the area.

His heart beat loudly in his ears and he could feel the fast, hummingbird heart, beats of the man under him. The man remained in this position for several seconds, listening hard for the telltale sounds of the dead.  
Surprisingly, everything was clear. This idiot survived purely on luck, it seemed.

The man sat up, squinting his eyes as the sky became darker. Nothing was even close to them, the zombies that were gathered at the small house hadn't even stirred. The man looked back down at this idiot and frowned at him. The idiot blinked up at him a couple of times before waggling his eyebrows at him. His frowned deepened, but he motioned with his other hand to stay quiet, bringing a finger to his lips. He rose slowly raised himself up from the ground and backed away towards the tree house. Idiot slowly got off the ground a few minutes after him and dusted himself off at a leisurely pace. He quietly slunk his way in the grass to retrieve his gun. After grabbing his gun he made his way up the tree house and fell into it with a dull thud.

"Hey-"

"Shut up." Usually the man was nicer when it came to introducing himself, but something about this idiot had really got under his skin.

"Wow, rude."

"I said shut up."

Idiot shrugged his shoulders to himself and leaned back against the hard, wood panels.

Now that their lives weren't in immediate danger, no thanks to Idiot, the man took this moment to really look at his appearance. He was tall, certainly taller than he was, with a lean build. He had on a grey hoodie with black jeans, something just about everyone was wearing, or at least from the few people he had ran into, since the weather was getting cooler. His hair was brown and still mused on the back where it had been laid in the dirt. The man lifted his eyes to study the Idiots' face and was met with a raised eyebrow and a grin. Idiot waggled his eyebrows, again. The man frowned, again.

"Are you done yet?"

"Shut up."

Idiot smiled and then shifted forward, hands digging into his pockets. He fished around in his pockets before pulling out a.. a PSP?

"I found it in the house just up the street," he said in response to the puzzled look on the mans face, "It was so worth it."

"Idiot"

"Hey, thanks, man.", he grinned, obviously not insulted in the slightest.

No one said anything for many moments after that. The two slipped into a comfortable silence that stretched on for what seemed like forever. The man just stared out into the field, watching as the world was plunged into darkness. He glanced at the Idiot from the corner of his eye from time to time, somewhat elated that he had found another survivor after to long. Sometimes he would be looking out into the field as well, most of the times he was staring down at the PSP with a grin, and sometimes, much to the mans puzzlement, the Idiot was looking right at him. The man stared back at him, meeting and holding his gaze.  
He was staring as if he was in absolute awe. Awe in the fact that he was still alive? Awe that he had finally ran into someone else?

The man didn't know.

And he didn't ask.

He simply stared back at the Idiot, probably meeting his gaze with the same expression. After a few short moments, the man shifted his gaze elsewhere, suddenly very uncomfortable. He hunched over and leaned against the small tree house with a sigh, the glanced up at the Idiot whose eyes gazed sadly back at him.


End file.
